


The Still Surviving

by DrowningInStarlight



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Crew as Family, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, POV Third Person, The Stolen Century
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-05 18:36:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16816195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrowningInStarlight/pseuds/DrowningInStarlight
Summary: You don't dream when you're dead, of course. That would be absurd, impossible. Barry still dreamt of her.





	The Still Surviving

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting on my drafts for so long, if I don't post it now, I never will. Let the record state that I love Barry Bluejeans. 
> 
> Title from Stipulation by Go! Child

Barry had always hoped he'd be given time. He'd watched his mother die before his eyes, slowly and painfully, before he was ten years old. He'd realised, once she'd passed, that he was the only person in the entire world who remembered the way she'd smiled, the way she'd sung him to sleep, even when her voice was cracked and she struggled to remember the words. He'd carried that burden for years, humming her lullabies to himself as a comfort. 

Then the Hunger had arrived, and suddenly his burden was heavier, unbearable and unmoving. Their world was gone, gone, gone, taken in less than an instant, like it had meant _nothing._ Somewhere along the line, Barry had started to wonder if it _was_ nothing, if it was all just dust and ash and the onset of darkness. 

All he'd ever wanted was time, and in a horrible, twisted way, his wish had been granted. He'd never wanted _this_ , never, never, he raged and fought it with everything he had, but time always caught up, the world always ended. Still the cycles ended in blood, shed in the very definition of a losing battle. Barry Bluejeans had died with the rising of the sun. 

You don't dream when you're dead, of course. That would be absurd, impossible. Barry still dreamt of her. 

__ 

It hadn't been a good cycle.

As always, it began with Barry gasping himself awake out of endless white light. He sank to his knees, clutching his stomach. The shadows soldiers of the Hunger had overwhelmed him, and when he could barely raise his weapon from exhaustion, they'd overwhelmed him. They'd torn him open ruthlessly with their ragged blades, and for a moment he felt like he was back there, broken and bleeding on the cold ground, choking on his own blood. 

Then he felt a hand on his shoulder, and saw Merle, looking concerned. "Barry?" 

"Yeah!" Barry said, standing up quickly and straightening his glasses. "Yeah, I'm here, what's up?" 

"You just look kinda rough," Merle said. "I mean, more than the normal just-came-back-from-the-dead rough. You okay?" 

Barry touched his stomach again. The soft material of his shirt, the warmth of his skin underneath-- no blood, no pain. "As good as can be expected after the. Well. Just-came-back-from-the-dead thing. Thanks, Merle." 

Lucretia joined them, looking as sick as he felt. Barry didn't know what had happened to her, they'd been separated early in the battle, but he put a comforting hand on her shoulder. Across the deck, Magnus, Lup and Taako were hugging and high fiving-- they'd died together, finding the Light. Davenport was nowhere to be seen, so Barry assumed he'd already gone down to the cockpit. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to ignore the blood-dipped visions his mind was presenting him with, and followed Davenport's example, heading inside. 

__ 

It didn't take long for the rest of the crew to gather around the helm. Davenport was gripping the wheel grimly as he steered them down towards the clouds. No one spoke, the only sound was the hum of the ship around them. 

Later, they'd talk, catch everyone up on the events of the previous cycle. Merle would heal Magnus's black eye, Taako would cook dinner, their routine would re-establish itself in this new plane. But they couldn't do anything, they couldn't even _breathe_ , not yet. First, they had to know. 

Merle muttered a prayer to Pan, and even though Barry had never been one for worship he followed suit-- _please, please, let this be one of the empty plains. Let us be able to save it._

They broke through the cloud cover after what felt like an eternity. The plane was spread out below them, green and lush, and Barry closed his eyes, put a hand to his face. Davenport sighed. Lucretia swore. Even from this height, they could see little villages dotted across the plains. The Starblaster swooped through the sky, and Barry watched the grasslands pass. Idyllic, peaceful, doomed. 

Around him, the other members of the crew began to look away. Barry understood why. As he stared, mesmerised, as the plains swishing by under them, his heart ached for their destroyed home. It had once looked so similar to this one, and eventually, he had to turn away like the others, eyes stinging. 

"It's... It's going to be a tough one, crew," Davenport said, voice a little rough. "Prepare for landing." 

__ 

Barry had long suspected that luck had abandoned them on one of the many worlds they'd failed to save, because the Light fell so far away they could hardly see it, just the barest flash on the horizon. Barry hated cycles like these, when their best just wasn't good enough and they all knew it. 

They were all tense. Davenport was snapping at everyone, not meeting anyone's gaze. Barry avoided him, knowing there was nothing he could do except give him space. Lucretia had long since vanished into her cabin, only reappearing to consult with people on plans to find the Light. He ran into her in the kitchen late one night, and the desperation in her eyes haunted him. 

"Luce--" he'd began, but she'd already gone. 

Merle had taken it upon himself to be the one who visited the nearby villages to trade for food. It wasn't a task anyone envied-- they were limiting their interactions to only the most necessary, a feeble attempt at damage control. Merle came home tired and grim, and Barry never knew what to say. 

Magnus spent all his time outside, in the cool grass under the shadow of the Starblaster. He ran through training routine after training routine, for hours and hours-- When sundown came, he'd stumble back aboard and fall asleep slumped on the sofa in the living quarters. Barry joined him a couple of times, just to keep an eye on him, but it soon became clear Magnus wasn't looking for companionship. He was trying to overcome some non-existent weakness in himself, and there was nothing the other crew members could do except to drape a blanket over him when he crashed. Damage control. 

Barry hadn't seen the twins much. They'd leave the Starblaster before anyone else was up, coming home muddy and exhausted. Any other time, Barry would have been apprehensive, wondering if they were plotting something, but... Not this cycle. He could recognise people trying outrun their demons. They'd disappeared again that day. Lup had been looking upset, and Taako had been holding her hand. He'd made a mental note to check on them when they resurfaced. Gods, damage control, damage control-- he hated that that was all he could do to help his family. 

__

The Starblaster was quiet. Everyone was busy, bearing the guilt in their own ways. That just left Barry, sitting alone in the research lab, reading the same notes over and over again, unable to take in a word. His thoughts were too loud, chasing round and round, as repetitive as the _thunks_ of Magnus's axe that were drifting in through the open window. 

He sighed, pushed his glasses back up his nose, and tried to focus. He had to think his way out, find the answer to the puzzle, a solution to all of this-- or just enough of a fix to save this plane while they still could. There was never enough time for the bigger picture, not when plane after plane was thrust into danger only they could save it from. Maybe the solution was obvious, just waiting there, but he couldn't stop and work it out. Despite having all the time in the world, he still couldn't breath for doubt. He sighed again, grabbed a discarded notebook, and began to write. He had to try.

__

He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there, but it was dark and his hand was cramped when the door slid open. He glanced up, startled, and saw Lup poking her head in around the door frame. 

"Hey, Barold," she said. She flicked the light switch, and Barry blinked. He could see how tired she looked under the bright lab lights. There were bags under her eyes, and her shoulders were slumped. She had something on her face, dust, maybe, or ash. He didn't ask. 

"Hey," he said, pushing the notebook back and massaging his stiff wrist. "You, uh... You doing okay?" 

She shrugged, letting the door slide shut behind her. "These cycles are just objectively the fucking worst." 

"I know," he said quietly. "I know." 

He didn't say anything else. He could have said _I wish it wasn't us who had to bear this burden,_ he could have said _I would do anything in this world or any other to end this crisis_ , he could have said _you are the one bright spot in all of this, but our world will shake itself apart a thousand times before I'm brave enough to tell you that._

He didn't. This world was ending, day by day, inch by inch. He had no words left. 

"What'cha writing?" Lup asked, when the silence had stretched slightly too long. She leaned over to peer down at the pages. 

"Honestly, I don't know," he said, pushing the notebook over to her. "I don't know if it's-- is it something? I can't tell anymore. I just had to do _something_..." 

"Yeah," Lup agreed softly. "I get it." 

He met her eyes. She looked so tired, so hurt, but her gaze was steady. Her face crinkled in a wry smile, and Barry smiled back, a little pink cheeked. 

After a moment, she pushed back off the table and stood back. "Taako told me to tell everyone dinner's ready, so..." 

"Right," he said, hastily shuffling the papers he'd scattered into a vaguely orderly stack, pushing back his chair so fast it almost fell over. He caught it sheepishly, and followed her towards the door. 

"Hey, Lup?" he said, as the lab door slid open. 

"Yeah?" She turned to look at him, and gods, Barry had never loved anyone as much as he loved her. 

"If you need someone to talk too," he said. "I know you've got Taako and all, but if you ever want a different perspective or, or someone who's not your brother, then... I'm always around. I mean, obviously, we all live on this ship, but... Yeah." 

"Thanks, Barry," she said, smiling genuinely this time. She bumped his shoulder, and he bumped hers back. They went into the kitchen laughing. 

There hadn't been much laughter that cycle, and there wouldn't be much more, but for a moment Barry felt like maybe they had a chance. The kitchen was warm and smelled like fresh bread and the stew that Taako was stirring in the huge saucepan. Lup flashed a smile at Barry, then left the room again, presumably to find the others. Merle was already there, asking Taako inane cookery questions, which the elf was answering irritably but not unwillingly. Barry was once again struck with how good Merle was at managing the crew, keeping them all grounded. 

Davenport came in, pulling Lucretia by the hand. 

"You have _got_ to eat," Davenport said. "I know this all sucks, but it'll be worse if you're not thinking clearly. Look, Taako's made..." 

"Only the finest stew on the entire plane," Taako said. "A Taako original, no less." He looked tired, too, and Barry knew they all recognised the signs of Taako stress-cooking, but he still scooped out a ladle full of strew with energy. "Here, 'Creesh, try it... Quick, before Magnus comes and eats it all." 

The door opened again, and Magnus came in, followed by Lup. 

"Before I eat what?" he asked, then "Ooh, stew. Don't mind if I do." It sounded half hearted, words hollow, but he made the effort to play up to Taako's joke. They were all making the effort to pretend things were normal, that they didn't have the weight of the world on their shoulders. Barry loved them for it. He hadn't known that he had the ability to love the way that he loved all of these assholes until he'd met them, but now he sat in the warm kitchen surrounded by family and loved, loved, loved. 

Taako passed him a bowl of stew, and he ate it slowly, a tune echoing round his head-- his mother's lullaby, something he hadn't sung for happiness in a long time. 

Maybe they'd be okay. Maybe it'd all be okay. 

__ 

In the end, love didn't change anything. 

The seven of them had started the expeditions to find the Light the next day. They'd spread out, covered as much of the plains as possible, searched for month after painstaking month-- no luck. They just couldn't find it. 

The year had passed, time had abandoned them. The world had been consumed by the Hunger, and it was their fault. 

He was dying, he was dreaming, then everything went white and he woke up, no longer doing either. He had too much time, and too little-- trapped in an eternal nightmare, reset. _The very definition of a losing battle._

**Author's Note:**

> Comments/kudos are always welcomed!


End file.
